


When All Else Fails

by BlackromSlut



Category: Homestuck
Genre: At least there's a happy ending, I'm Seriously going to apologize. I was listening to sad music, M/M, Sadstuck, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackromSlut/pseuds/BlackromSlut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AN: Yeah I wrote this at like 3 in the morning, and I was so tired I fell asleep on my keyboard, not once but twice, so sorry if it's crap. <br/>--<br/>A sappy JohnDave fanfic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is John Egbert, and you want nothing but to be dead.

You sit in your bedroom, alone all except for the blade that lie a few feet from your body, glittering with the candy red substance that was dripping from it, staining the floor, as you sit in the corner with your knees pulled up to your chest. You can't cry anymore, so you just sit there, slowly rocking back and forth and wondering how even you managed to fuck everything up so horribly. It's all your fault that everybody is suffering, and it's your fault that everybody hates you so much. It's your fault that nobody even bothers to say hi to each other anymore. It's your fault every body has died. It's all entirely your fault, no matter what anybody tries to tell you. You just want everything to go back to the way it was, before you started playing sburb, even if that meant you would have never met any of the trolls. You just want everything to go back to the way it was before you fucked everything up for everybody. You just want your friends back. You just want to be happy again.

Instead, you sit there in your room, no more tears left, feeling sorry for yourself. No. You deserve this. You deserve to cry your eyes out night after night. You deserve to be in pain. You deserve to be depressed. You deserve to hate yourself. You fucking deserve every single thing that has led up to this moment. You are a horrible person and you deserve to die. You want to. It would be heaven, even if you went to Hell.

You're so numb that you can't feel anything, not even the fresh cuts that lined your wrists, blood still slowly dripping from them to the floor. It doesn't even hurt anymore. The only thing that does hurt is the swelling ball of emptiness where you guess your heart is supposed to be. You know that you are responsible for everything that has happened to your friends since you started playing. If only you had been a better leader, they would all be fine and happy and having fun. That's how everything would be if you hadn't ever been involved in their sburb session. As long as they'd still have a hero of time and a hero of space, they would have succeeded. They would have been better off without you. Everybody would have been better off if you'd never even entered their lives. They hate you, and they've only put up with you for this long because they feel sorry for you. They don't care about you. You are worthless to them. You never did anything to help them during sburb anyway. All you did was accidentally murder innocent people and cause tornadoes. Sure, you fought Jack Noir once, but you **_failed_** , and Rose had to save your sorry ass. Courtesy of you, your spurb session was a nightmare.

You'll never forgive yourself for everything you did to them, so why should you expect them to? You shouldn't. They won't. It's an unreasonable request to ask them for forgiveness when you made their lives a living hell, which is the exact place you deserve to rot in.

You let out a shaky breath and stand up on unstable legs. You walk into the bathroom, and rinse your wrists off in the cold water that stung as it hit the fresh cuts, until there was no more blood falling from them. You gently dried off your arms and pulled a sweatshirt on. You look up into the mirror, and all you see are sleep-deprived eyes, and ugly facial features staring back at you. You tear your eyes away from the bright blue ones staring at you from the other side. You don't want to be here anymore. You want to be in Hell. At least you could focus on physical pain instead of all of this pressure that is being forced onto you, since what you are currently doing barely helps anymore. Death seems like such an amazing option, but it's hanging over your head, just barely out of reach.

You go back to your room and grab the blade off of the floor, ignoring the blood that still stains it red, and put it back where you keep it hidden from view. You grab your phone out of the corner where you threw it when you first walked in. Dave messaged you about 10 minutes ago. You click on the message, and it reads, 'Hey. I'm going over to your house, see you in like 15 mins." You sigh. Why does he even insist on coming over here, anyway? You know he just pities you, so what's the point?

You've only got around 5 minutes, so you walk back into the bathroom and splash water over your tear-stained face, in hopes of hiding any trace of tears. It doesn't work as effectively as you had wished, but it'll have to do, because just as you dry off your face, the doorbell rings. You put on your glasses and walk to the door, opening it. Dave stands there, shades covering his eyes, as usual, and you step to the side to let him in. He strides into your house as if it were his own, and throws himself down on the couch, using your coffee table as a foot rest. You shake your head and close the door behind him, before walking over and sitting down next to him. Almost instantly, as if on cue, he asks if you have any food.

"Nope. None at all. I'm living in a house with absolutely no food in it whatsoever." comes your reply.

"I'll take that as a yes." He says, getting up and going to the kitchen. You follow, still wondering why he even bothers coming over here anymore, considering he had _way_ better people to hang out with.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The two of you spend the next 10 minutes making food, even though you'd rather be avoiding food at all costs.

You're facing the counter, about to grab two plates of food and bring them to the living room. You spin around, just to find Dave's body an inch from your own. He grabs the plates from your hands and sets them back down, a smirk on his lips. When did he get so tall? He seems so big when he was so close to you. His hands are on either side of your body as you look up at his face that is slowly closing in on you. Your thoughts are all tangled up and confusing. What is he doing?

His lips are barely a centimeter from yours when his phone goes off from across the room and he abruptly turns towards it, cussing under his breath. He turned back around, disappointment written on his face. You quickly maneuver out of the way of him, and start to quickly walk off towards your room.

"John, I-"Dave started, grabbing your wrist tightly, and stopping you from walking to your bedroom. You practically scream in pain as he puts pressure on your cuts. He immediately releases your arm and you stand there, shaking in fear that he'll realize why you had just screamed. Unluckily for you, realization crossed over those of his features that you could see. You stand there for a minute, in complete silence. Maybe he doesn't know. Maybe you can come up with an excuse. But, why would you scream like that if you hadn't been in pain?

Finally, he says quietly but with force, "Take off the shirt."

"...W-What?" Is all you can manage as you stare at him.

"I said take of your goddamned shirt." He said, loudly.

When you don't move, he pulls his shades off of his face, staring at you with red eyes you've never seen. "John fucking Egbert, you take off the fucking shirt right now, or I swear to fucking god."

You're stunned, but his eyes are bearing into you, and you realize that you have no choice, so you slowly pull your sweatshirt over your head, and, since your hands are shaking so badly, your shirt goes with it. You don't care. You look down at your feet, not able to look him in the eyes. When you finally do get the courage to look up at him, he's staring right at you. You bight down on your lip and force yourself to keep your eyes locked with his. There's hurt in his eyes. He's looking at you with hurt in his eyes.

And then his eyes are closed and his lips are on yours. You're too shocked to move. Once you regain control of yourself, you kiss him back. It's him who pulls back. Looking you in the eyes, he gets down and gently grabs your arm, pressing his lips to your wrist as gently as he can manage, all the while his eyes never leaving yours. Tears sting in your eyes and you don't even  put up a fight as they trail down your cheeks. He keeps moving slowly up your arm, his lips dancing over fresh cuts and old scars. He does the same exact thing to your other arm before rising back up to his feet and putting his lips on yours the same way he pressed them to your wrist only seconds ago.

"Don't ever do that again, please?" He whispers in you ear, and you can hear him choke on his own words.

"...You can't just say one thing and expect me to do that Dave. Just because you love me, doesn't mean that I love myself. I still hate myself more than anybody or anything else, okay? You can't just come in here and kiss me and expect me to just... stop. I would if I could, but I can't!"

He's speechless for a few moments before he whispers, "Then _try_. Please. Just try not to hurt yourself anymore. I don't want you to think that your worthless; you're not. I love you so much, John. I can't think of a world without you. At least...-" He pushed his arm towards you, the underside of his wrist facing you, "Look, whatever you want to do to yourself, do to me. Just don't hurt yourself."

You blinked a couple times in total disbelief. Did he just expect you to go ahead and cut his arms just because you did that to yourself? "Dave..... What the- I would never hurt you like that; you don't deserve tha-" You stopped and just stared at him for a minute, realization striking you.

You broke down. What else could you do? You fell to the floor crying and shaking. Dave was immediately holding you against his chest and telling you that everything was going to be okay and that he was there for you and that you wouldn't be alone anymore, and it just made you cry even harder.

He holds you close to him the rest of the evening, whispering sweet nothings into your ears while kissing you gently. You fall asleep later on with his body wrapped around yours, feeling safe and protected.

\----

A few miles away, Nepeta feverishly scribbles a new addition on to her shipping wall. John and Dave have now been added with a pink Diamond between them. <>


End file.
